


Always Within Reach

by maskedhero



Category: Tales of Vesperia
Genre: "Fake" Kisses, Crossdressing, Friends to Lovers, Genderfluid Character, Handcuffed Together, M/M, Pining, Plot Spoilers, Post-Game, Sexual Content, motherfuckin secret mission
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 09:13:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18518395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maskedhero/pseuds/maskedhero
Summary: POST GAME, PLOT SPOILERS MAY FOLLOW.In a post-blastia world, a rising new guild is causing trouble in Tolbyccia. Yuri has personally taken it on himself to figure out what's going on. Flynn goes to make sure he stays out of trouble and manages to get chained down to the task... literally.





	1. Loyalty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i might... change the title of the work... if I come up with anything better...
> 
> hello i'm in fluri hell please enjoy

It rained the last time Yuri came to Flynn’s window.

The pattering of raindrops on the glass was interrupted by Yuri’s harsh raps and his muffled shouts. In a rush, Flynn opened up the window and dragged Yuri inside. He tracked mud on Flynn’s clean floor and slung a soaking wet bag in Flynn’s desk chair.

“You could have slipped and fallen! Those aren’t appropriate footwear for climbing-- and in this weather! Do you know how high up we are, Yuri?!”

“Yes, hundreds of feet, you’ve told me before.” Yuri shook out his hair and laughed in that reckless way. “Don’t worry, if I hit the ground from that height it’s not like I’ll suffer.”

“You’d better hope I don’t throw you out the window for talking like that,” Flynn grumbled, tossing a towel at Yuri’s head as hard as he could. Yuri kept laughing, and he retrieved the bag he’d carried with him, stuffed with a bottle of sparkling cider and loads of junk food. Flynn’s expression perked up.

“Quit being a stick in the dick and help me eat this crap, would you? We’re celebrating one year of the beginning of the new world.”

“Without the others?” Flynn tried to sound more surprised than excited. He didn’t know which emotion prevailed.

“They’re setting up in the Comet to surprise you later, but I wanted to catch you for myself.”

“Heh, so much for the surprise.”

“Hey, that’s what they get for giving me that chore.” Yuri popped open the cider and swigged from the handle in a couple gulps. “Besides, if I don’t get this time in now, I’ll never see you today. The entire quarter will fawn over you and I’ll never get a word in edgewise. ‘Ooh, Commandant, you’re so fabulous, will you marry all my daughters? We need as many blonde brats as we can fit into this place!’”

Flynn couldn’t help but laugh along with Yuri, a blush glowing on his cheeks. “Would you shut up? They’ll be fawning over you, too. Ooh, Yuri, with your… hair, or whatever. Is that alcoholic?”

“Nah, all the alcohol is at the party.” Yuri raised a brow. “You shouldn’t drink at work, Commandant.”

“You shouldn’t bother me at work, but here we are.” Flynn snatched the bottle from Yuri and took a few swigs. His subsequent belch had Yuri in stitches.

 

\--

 

Since then, Yuri hasn’t been here for one month, three weeks, and two days. Not that Flynn has been keeping track.

He keeps looking up to the clock on the wall opposite his desk, scant minutes passing between each glance. When he’s not looking at the clock, he’s staring out the window, at the skyline of Zaphias kissed by a clear blue sky; he’s still not used to the lack of barrier and it catches him off guard sometimes. He drums his fingers on his paperwork. His foot taps out a frantic rhythm on the hardwood floor.

Being Commandant of the Imperial Army meant near-constant work, especially in the months following the changing of the entire world. It meant covering the new weaknesses that a lack of aer-powered blastia left. It meant listening to the demands of the insecure people of Zaphias. It meant overhauling the entire system.

It is a massive undertaking that Flynn had been hoping to spearhead since he was just a child, and although he had no illusions that it would be easy, he misses the days where he could afford to goof off. The days when he and Yuri were young, trading a well-loved sword to practice their victory poses, coming up with ways to improve life for those less fortunate.

If only it were that easy; to speak change into existence like that. 

Flynn drops his head to his desk and allows himself a moment of immature weakness as he groans out loud. 

The Council had been unusually stubborn as of late. A good number of the elder men were stuck in their ways, and while they’d been initially eager to deal with the Guilds at the end of the world, they returned to stubborn stock and nationalist ideals as soon as the threat of the Adephagos had been eliminated. More than that, there were signs of corruption. Flynn had eyes on three specific members of the Council: Jeremy Rennard, Edmund Dimel, and Derrick Caruthers. Their push for Estellise’s initial run for Empress of Zaphias had been the most aggressive, and now with Ioder on the throne and Flynn as Commandant, their criticisms came never-ending and their activities ever furtive.

As well as that, tensions between the Empire and the Union had begun to mount again, despite the efforts of Flynn and Brave Vesperia.

Ioder and Flynn himself had been accused of things like racketeering, bribery, and even the clandestine murder of dissidents. With Fortune’s Market working closely with the Empire to regulate resources and the economy, some accusations were just to be expected. The rumors were just so… ghoulish.

Brave Vesperia had a glowing reputation almost worldwide, thanks to leader Karol Capel’s influence and the role they played in rehabilitating communities after the near-end of the world. However, Yuri’s actions were scrutinized constantly. Flynn’s close friendship with him, that infamous activist-slash-vigilante, had many on the Council and in the Union pointing suspicious eyes at the both of them.

“Like I’d ever order Yuri to murder someone,” Flynn mutters against the desk, laughing to himself. “Like I could ever order Yuri to do anything messed up like that. He’d kill me himself, first.”

He looks up to the window again.

“Yuri.”

Despite his quiet plea to the realm, his best friend doesn’t magically appear on the sill. Of all the days for him to not show up, it has to be the day that he desperately needs a distraction from the toxic politics. But that guy has his own business to attend to. He has a life, unlike Flynn. Between his guild and his friends and his travels, he lives a thrilling and busy existence, a constant celebration of the life he’d sorely earned from all of his-- arguably-- good deeds.

Flynn has to admit he’s envious. And maybe a little lonely. No matter what he’s doing, his thoughts eventually wander to him-- to Yuri. Yuri, with long hair and wild eyes and an even wilder smile. Sparks fly wherever he strikes, his every action as decisive as death and as exhilarating as life. While fighting with him, alongside him, his true equal and his best friend, he has never felt more like himself.

The ache of missing him makes it hard to breathe, sometimes.

His door opens, and Flynn immediately rises in salute to his emperor. A sense of dread overtakes him, although his face remains placid.

“Your majesty. To what do I owe this visit?”

The baby-faced Emperor Ioder stands in his doorway, a grim smile twisting his features. Besides his retainer, accompanying him is Councilman Dimel.

“You aren’t going to like this, Commandant.”

 

By carriage, the trip to Dahngrest takes all of three days. Flynn packs light, forgoing his usual imperial armor for reinforced leather. If he takes his imperial longsword, he’d be picked out as the commandant immediately, which is unacceptable for a mission like this. Instead, he carries a shortsword and an experimental formula written on cloth. And just in case, he stows a pair of old handcuffs if he needs to make an arrest; hopefully it won’t come to that.

Three days is a long time. Long enough for Yuri to get into plenty of trouble.

Intelligence had found him operating in shady groups, getting close to people of interest to the Knights. A guild had cropped up in this post-aer era named New Realm with a mission statement of hope; however, some founders of the group had previously been involved with gang activity in the former Blood Alliance. They recruit vulnerable people to their ranks, those most affected by the loss of blastia: people left jobless after dissolution of their guild, homeless after monster attack, or hopeless because of the trauma of a near apocalypse. Despite these suspicions, everything seemed above board. The Union kept eyes on their own, for the most part, so the Empire would never have to intervene.

If Yuri was trying to rub shoulders with the guild leader, he must know something that the Knights or even the Union did not. There could be no other reason. He would never defect from Brave Vesperia. Unfortunately, this might also mean he’s considering pursuing his own justice.

“You realize that sending spies into the Union is a violation of the treatise?” Flynn’s voice is tight. He doesn’t deign to look at Councilman Dimel. “This could be the final knell to our tumultuous relations.”

Councilman Edmund Dimel is a tall, pale man, with little muscle-mass and even less presence. For someone like him to be such a thorn in Flynn’s side makes his jaw clench, makes his teeth hurt.

Dimel scoffs, taking a defensive tone. “They aren’t spies, Commandant; they’re your own people, doing their job watching over the people of Terca Lumieres. Do you doubt the eyes of your own knights? Besides, I think your little _friend_ is more of a threat to peace than--”

“Gentlemen,” Ioder says, gentle yet firm, patience like a man years his senior. “Now is not the time. Flynn, are you sure you don’t want me to send a message ahead to Brave Vesperia?”

Flynn finally turns, focusing hard blue eyes on his emperor. He knows the implication of him asking.

_Are you sure you want to abandon your work to chase after Yuri? Do you know what this will look like to your critics?_

_You know that Yuri is going to hate this?_

“I’m sure. I’m the only one who can handle him.”

 

And so, on his fastest mount, Flynn sets out on his own. The Knights are under the pretense that he was meeting with the head of the Union, Harry Whitehorse; the only people who knew his actual mission were Prince Ioder and Councilman Dimel. The lump in his throat and the flow of his thoughts were his only traveling companions. He’d deliberately left Sodia and Witcher behind. He didn’t need anyone else when it came to dealing with Yuri.

In record time, Dahngrest comes up upon the horizon just as the sun begins to set over the gigantic chain-like blastia. Steam and smoke rose over the sprawling city, catching a hazy orange glow reminiscent of the discolored barrier that used to encircle it. Despite the threat of monsters, Dahngrest had only grown stronger this past year, and Flynn passed a few guild camps dedicated to protecting the bridges from onslaught. They greeted him from afar with raised fists, and Flynn raised his in turn, a universal symbol of guild solidarity.

His steed stabled, his feet on the cobblestones, Flynn gets to work. He donned a pair of dark sunglasses and a wide-brimmed hat that covered his mop of blond hair. Knowing Yuri, he hadn’t involved Brave Vesperia in this stunt, shouldering the effort entirely on his own, so contacting them wouldn’t be worth the trouble, much less the drama. And so, the first order of business was to check his things into the inn and catch a little gossip from the locals.  


The inn in the front of town still has a room open, to Flynn’s relief. Without blastia, the rooms are lit with oil lamps that hang from the ceiling on chains. Flynn can see well-crafted machinery that lower and raise the lamps with a simple crank.

The innkeeper greets him with some suspicion. Flynn supposes it’s better than being recognized outright, although maybe the sunglasses were a little much.

“So, what’s the nightlife like?” Flynn adopts a low-quarter drawl as he trades a few hundred gald for a room key. “Anywhere new I should be lookin’ into?”

“I always recommend the Sagittarius,” the innkeeper offers, “That’s where the old Don used to frequent. His section of the bar is somewhat of a tourist attraction these days.

“Been there, done that.” Flynn leans against the counter and lowers his sunglasses. “I’m looking for somewhere a little more dangerous.”

The innkeeper’s eyebrows raise, and he regards Flynn coolly. “Head to the west side of town, next to the old Blood Alliance headquarters. You’ll know it when you see it, sir.”

 

Yuri was always the one with the better sense of direction, but Flynn makes it to the street he needs just as the last bit of light leaches from the sky. He spots a small trio of young women wearing long coats and high heels. They approach a decrepit building with boarded up windows and enter without hesitation. Flynn follows. 

On the inside, the building is just as worn down. It smells like candied perfume and mold. The wallpaper is faded and peeling, a tacky pattern popular about fifty years ago. There’s a flight of carpeted stairs that lead up to what looks to be old hotel rooms. He can hear floorboards creaking above him. Nobody seems to be posted as bouncer; in fact, no one else is in this place, not even the women Flynn followed in.

The real draw seems to be hidden under the trapdoor across the way, the sound of conversation and clinking glass drifting from the floor. The door is easy to open, swinging wide without a sound. Flynn finds a dim staircase, taking him closer to the smells and sounds. He descends into a cloud of hookah smoke and hazy candlelight.


	2. Improvising

Yuri sat on Flynn’s windowsill, his sword hanging from a hemp rope wrapped around his wrist. He’d dozed off there while Flynn was working, but even when Yuri wasn’t being distracting, Flynn couldn’t focus with him there. The sunset outside wreathed dark Yuri in a rosy golden glow. Draped like fine silk, his hair fell around his shoulders; he’d never admit it, but he took pride in his haircare routine. It really showed. There was nothing more Flynn wanted to do then than braid it. Maybe Yuri would even let him if he asked.

“Hey, Flynn.” 

Flynn jumped at his name. Yuri’s voice came so softly he almost missed it.

“Yuri?”

“Is this what we wanted?” Yuri stared out the window, down into the town. Flynn sat up. He watched Yuri scrub his hand over his face and rest his chin against his fingers. “Are we doing enough to help people?”

“Crime is down,” Flynn offered, “and there are more than enough jobs to go around. Spirit research is coming along at a promising pace. The only real problem we have is the worrying increase in monster population, but with the guilds doing their part in researching and dispatching--”

“Yeah yeah, I know, you’ve got all the statistics,” Yuri interrupted, waving a hand in dismissal, “you’ve got a whole army of knights and mages at your beck and call and the Emperor is your best buddy. I guess you’re right. Forget about it.”

Flynn’s brow furrowed. “Yuri, what’s on your mind?”

“It’s nothing. I wasn’t thinking.”

 

\--

 

The thick smell of flavored tobacco and weed assaults Flynn’s senses first, nearly drowning out the scent of alcohol and burning oil. He breathes through his mouth until he’s accustomed to it, taking in the dimly lit room. The walls are brick, the mortar stained yellow, and the flooring is cracked concrete. A large wooden bar takes up an entire wall, shelves of moonshine and wine stowed behind it and a surly man with ropey muscles posted between. In the open area, several tables are filled with raucous men and women, their weapons kept at their hips or propped up nearby.

Towards the back, a glossy curtain blocks what looks to be another, darker hallway. The music drifts from there along with smoke, a piano and cello duet. The women that he followed here make their way towards the curtain, and one girl sheds her coat to reveal-- well, not very much of anything underneath. That must be the reason why this bar is so out of the way and hidden. Flynn lifts his collar, a flush rising to his ears. 

He sidles up to the bar. Sweat trickles down the back of his neck, and his scalp itches. It’s so hard to breathe down here that Flynn feels dazed.

“What can I getcha, newbie?” The bartender addresses him, tossing a dirty old rag over his shoulder. His voice sounds like he’s chewing on gravel, and his teeth look just as such, his resting face a constant grimace. “Ain’t seen you around before.”

“Friend told me about this place. I’m former Ruins Gate. Can I just get a brandy on the rocks?”

The bartender scoffs. He slides a square glass in front of Flynn and pours a thick, amber liquid from on high. “No rocks these days, m’fraid. Not with no blastia. Though I can’t complain-- least I still got a job.” He passes the glass over, and Flynn takes a sip.

It burns as it goes down, as cheap as it comes. He passes a few gald coins over the counter anyway. “Why do you think I’m drinkin’?” Flynn chuckles, staring into his tumbler. “I didn’t think I’d miss ice so much.”

The bartender grunts. It’s almost a sympathetic sound. “Goes down the same. Y’know… I heard of a new guild doing good things for Ruins Gate guildsmen.”

Flynn lifts his head. “What’s that?”

“S’run by a good man. I used to follow him in Blood Alliance, before ol’ Barbos fucked up the works.” He went back to polishing his bar. “You’ll find all sorts of people in there from the big ol’ guilds; Hunting Blades, Ruins Gate, Leviathan’s Claw even.”

“The Hunting Blades? There’s plenty of work for that guild these days.”

The sound of a glass breaking jerks Flynn’s attention behind him. This conversation would have to wait.

“Hey! Watch it, you stupid bitch!” A massive man stands from his chair, drenched in booze, addressing a knock-kneed waitress who couldn’t have been older than eighteen. The poor girl trembles, trying to pick up pieces of glass on her serving tray, apologizing in a whirlwind of words as the burly male leers over her. “My new coat’s ruined. You’re going to pay for this.”

A dark-haired woman in a very short, purple dress leaps to her feet, already herding the waitress behind her. “You want a fight, you’ll take me on, lunkhead. Or do you really want to beat in a sweet teenager for being a little klutzy?”

The bald man she was with at the table laughs at her anger, reaching for her waist. “Hey, sweetheart, leave the man be!” She tugs away and smacks his hand off her rear end. “Don’t be like that!”

The huge guy doesn’t back off. “You gonna let your girl talk to me like that?”

“I’m not his girl,” she says back, tilting her head a dangerous angle, “and I can talk to ugly, stinking ogres however I want. We gonna do this, microdick?”

The low hum of an excited audience electrifies the atmosphere, the thrill of imminent confrontation drawing all eyes. The bartender’s growled warning goes unnoticed, and he goes back to his business, no intention of intervening in what seems like a very one-sided faceoff.

Of course, Flynn can’t help himself.

“Is there a problem here?” He inserts himself between the two, facing the large man who is definitely a whole head and a half taller than Flynn, and at least twice his width. His fist could enclose Flynn’s head with room to spare. Scars criss-cross his body, made by monsters rather than blades. The ‘new coat’ of contention looks to be made of bearskin, now drenched in tomato juice and vodka.

Ever the soldier, Flynn stands firm. The woman behind him is silent, although their enraptured audience is anything but; her tablemate laughs like he’s heard a fantastic joke.

“Look how small he is! Hey Cappy, you think you can fight Big Rick?! Haw haw haw!”

“We could take him,” the woman says under her breath. Something about her voice makes the hair on his neck stand on end. “Say the word.”

He hasn’t blinked once since he stepped between them, staring into the bulging eyes of his combatant. With two people facing off against him, Big Rick takes a moment to look between the two of them. The tension eases in his neck.

“Not worth it.” He lumbers off to the side, and the electricity in the atmosphere fizzles. The air sags with disappointment, and even Flynn feels like he missed out on something.

That is, until he’s grabbed by the collar by the woman in purple and dragged across the room. The booming laughter of the man at the table is washed away by the pounding of Flynn’s heart in his ears, and the  _ crack! _ of his head against the wall as he’s shoved backwards into the brick. He sees nothing but stars for precious moments. The woman presses her shockingly sturdy body against his, pinning him with lean muscle. Her breath is hot and boozy against his face, her hand clammy across his neck. He tries to swallow. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” She whispers angrily, the high tone of her voice lost in urgency. The goosebumps on Flynn’s neck spread down his spine to the tips of his limbs.

“ _ Yuri? _ ”

“No, it’s Repede.” It’s Yuri. Flynn fixates on his thick eyelashes. “You dumbass, how did you find me? And did you really think sunglasses and a hat would keep anyone from recognizing the  _ Commandant?! _ ”   
  
The man left behind at the table calls for Yuri in a booming voice. “Eva! Eva, you gonna waste your time with that guy?!”

Yuri rolls his eyes, a long-suffering look. He puts on a flirty, high voice. “I gotta repay him, sweetcheeks!” Staring straight past Flynn’s face, Yuri’s voice returns to his angry hush. “We gotta make out.”

“What--?!”

“Don’t make a big deal out of it! Fine, just--” Yuri grabs a handful of Flynn’s hair and presses his lips against his neck. “Put your hands on my waist. Tell me what’s going on, or I’ll bite.”

Yuri kisses a line down his neck, dangerously close to his racing pulse. The gloss on his lips leaves cool, sticky patches on his skin. Between them the space is too hot, too sweaty, Yuri reeks of wine and smoke. Flynn’s knees feel weak. If it weren’t for Yuri pinning him against the wall, he might have collapsed by now. The words to speak die in his chest, and they leave as a shuddering grunt instead. 

Flynn finds the purchase to speak once Yuri’s teeth threaten soft tissue. “Wait, wait-- Yuri, where did you _ learn _ \-- n-not the time, it’s not the time.” Yuri has the gall to laugh at him. Flynn takes a deep breath, or as deep as he can get in this stuffy dungeon of a bar. “The Council somehow got intel about you cavorting with people of interest. They wanted to get Brave Vesperia and the Union involved, but I wanted to find you myself and--  _ shit! _ ”

Yuri growls, a cord of muscle caught between his teeth as he bites down hard enough to bruise. Flynn claws at Yuri’s dress, but his efforts to push him away only cause him to slot closer. Yuri has always been stronger than he looks.

“The Council, it’s always the fucking  _ Council _ . You couldn’t have sent me a goddamn letter? Did you know the post still exists?” Yuri’s knee plants firmly between Flynn’s legs, and Flynn can’t get away without making a scene. “Or maybe you could have minded your own business and let me do my own thing.”

Alright. He’ll make a scene. 

Flynn grabs Yuri by the scalp and flips their position. Yuri is shoved up against the wall, eyes like a feral cat’s as Flynn zones in. “I thought you were done doing your ‘own thing’,” Flynn says in a dangerous tone. He clamps his teeth onto Yuri’s exposed shoulder in retaliation.

The gasp this garners from Yuri was not what Flynn expected out of him.

“ _ Fuck _ you,” Yuri groans, hands fisting in Flynn’s jacket. “I didn’t know you had that in you.”

Flynn’s anger bleeds away to embarrassment. “It’s-- it’s your turn to talk,  _ Eva _ .”

“Fine. Kiss my neck, you gotta keep it going.” Yuri draws his leg up against Flynn’s hip. His dress hikes up, and Flynn snags the hem to pull it back down. “Ugh, Flynn, it’s called improvisation, and you are terrible at it.”

“Are you drunk?! We are not in a position for you to be cracking jokes! And I am _ not about _ to let you  _ scandalize _ yourself, even if you’re Eva!” Flynn presses his lips against Yuri’s neck. He gets a noseful of a familiar scent underneath the stink of the bar-- sandalwood and vanilla, Yuri’s favorite to wear when he was really serious about an event.

“Too late for that,” Yuri mutters, arching against Flynn in his act. Something hard presses against Flynn’s thigh, and Yuri jerks back. “Sorry. Knife in my thong. I’m not happy to see you.” Yuri squirms when Flynn bites him again, a warning. “Okay,  _ okay _ \-- I’m undercover. I’m trying to get this Manny guy to tell me where his boss Higen is holed up. They’re part of this weird guild, New Realm. New Realm has been recruiting a LOT of people. Some of them have been disappearing, including people who used to be part of Brave Vesperia. It’s fishy. Kinda like your kisses, Flynn, c’mon.”

Flynn glares at him, but he holds back a combative comment. “So Brave Vesperia does know you’re doing this?”

“Well, no, they don’t. It’s complicated. But if you just get out of here, I’ve almost got this guy under my thumb--”

“Yuri, I can’t let you do this by yourself--”

“Yes, you can, now get off--”

“-- get yourself killed! I’m not--”

“--I WILL scream, I’m not above--”

A heavy hand pats Flynn on the shoulder, their bickering cut short by the shadow of Manny behind him. “Cappy giving you trouble, sweetheart?”


	3. Inseparable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter warning: sexual harassment
> 
> I'm too impatient to wait between releasing each chapter so I'm just putting them up when I feel satisfied. This may mean long gaps because right now I'm writing chapter seven! 
> 
> Thank you for reading!

Ever since they were young boys, Flynn and Yuri shared everything. Food, toys, their sleeping space, a sword that they scrimped and saved for. One was rarely seen without the other. They fought often, bickering over things both petty and serious, but they always managed to come back to the same level. And god forbid anyone try and mess with one boy while the other was around.

Hanks had a particular story he loved telling about the boys in their youth. He always pulled it out at the worst times, and it never failed to embarrass both men. One day, he’d made a comment as he watched them playing:

“You two are just like brothers, arentcha?”

Flynn burst into tears on the spot, prompting Yuri to hold him tightly and shoot the most malicious of glares at Hanks. Once Flynn calmed down enough to speak, Hanks got an earful.

“I-I don’t want to be his brother!” Flynn hiccuped. Yuri wiped his nose clean with his sleeve. “I want to marry Yuri!”

“I’m gonna be his wife,” Yuri said proudly, “and we’re gonna adopt all the kids in the world and be the best dads, like Flynn’s dad was. And Flynn’s dad always said his wife was his best friend!”

“Yeah! And Yuri is my  _ best  _ friend!”

Hanks held back a fond chuckle. “That’s a nice thought, kiddos, but I have some bad news for you. You know two boys can’t get married? It’s against the law.”

“That law is stupid. And that’s why we’re gonna change it,” said Yuri, his jaw set. “Cuz Flynn and me are gonna be together forever, no matter what!”

 

\--

 

Manny is a stout older man, with a thick torso and trunk-like legs. His hand grips Flynn’s shoulder so hard that the joint pops. Flynn freezes in place, staring straight into Yuri’s expression. He has to follow his lead.

Yuri licks his smiling lips. Flynn knows this face. The gears in Yuri’s head are spinning so fast that sparks are flying in his slate gray eyes, his pupils mere pinpricks.

“He said he wants to join New Realm,” Yuri purrs, slipping out from between Flynn and the brick wall. Watching him move is entrancing, his legs impossibly long and toned; he’s built like a dancer, and moves like one too. His hands slide like fluid down the collar of the barrel chested Manny, and he stands far too close for comfort. “I told him I’d talk to you first… But you’re going to let me join first, right?”

Manny’s hands go to Yuri’s waist, and Flynn fights the urge to chop his wrists off.

“Right, darlin’, I said I’d think about it. You told him about the guild like a good girl, hm?” Manny looks over his shoulder and raises a hand. The people at his table rise, gathering their weapons. Flynn tenses.

“Let’s head into the hookah room and talk a little bit. Then maybe we could take this party upstairs... how’s that sound?” Manny’s smile is big and full of gold teeth. “What’s your name, son?”

“Guy,” Flynn blurts. “Guy Cecil.”

“If that ain’t funny. My name’s Manny Virgil. It’s a pleasure, Guy.”

Yuri shoots him a wide-eyed smile. He looks a little crazed.

 

The hookah lounge behind the curtain is even smokier than the bar. Clouds cling to the low ceiling, so thickly perfumed that Flynn’s eyes water and droop. The lighting is even more dimmed here, with only candles and the occasional glow of a hookah being lit. It makes it impossible to see with the sunglasses on, so Flynn is forced to remove them. The sound of the cello vibrates low in Flynn’s chest, a darkly beautiful sound, followed with a piano refrain moving at the pace of a waltz.

They’re seated at one of the tall bongs by a gorgeous young woman who might as well be wearing string. Flynn keeps his eyes on the golden fringe of the pillow he sits on.

“You embarrassed, Guy?” Manny laughs, and his group laugh with him. Yuri snickers behind his fingers. “Don’t worry, she won’t bite. Hon, bring us the good stuff, won’t you?”

The hookah is lit, and a fresh bloom of sweet-smelling smoke rises from the chamber. Manny offers Flynn one of the mouthpieces, a pipe made of spun glass that connects to the main glass chamber with a flexible tube.

“Mm, let me have the first go,” Yuri says. He deliberately traces his fingers over Flynn’s fist and guides the mouthpiece to his lips. Flynn watches him, hears the gurgle of the water filtering the smoke as Yuri breathes in deep. As he pulls away, he lets smoke curl from his open mouth, and then blows a trio of perfect rings. Flynn is entranced.

Manny grins, sliding his hand over Yuri’s back. “Thanks for helping out our Eva, by the way. She thank you good enough? You got some nice bruises formin’.” Flynn grabs at his neck, his face flushing. Manny has his own mouthpiece, and smoke enshrouds his head as he laughs. “So, what do you do, Guy?”

“I used to do excavation for Ruins Gate,” Flynn answers. “There was good money in finding a good piece of blastia, even more if you could find cores, but I’ve been screwed ever since that whole end of the world business.”

“Aye, a common story these days.” Manny nods, pulling from the hookah. “For most people, the world still ended even after that monster got purged. The Union is worthless to guildsmen who’ve been displaced, and don’t even get me started on the Empire.” He scoffs. “All they care about is taking care of their own. ‘The strong protect the weak’, my fat goddamn ass. Still expecting their poor to pay their taxes while their rich go back to normal.”

Flynn swallows hard. He glances to Yuri, who avoids his gaze, his glossed lips drawn in a tight line.

“But that’s why we’re going to change that, right doll?” Manny squeezes Yuri’s hip, smirking. Yuri perks up, his smile pointed.

“It’s about time! I’m so sick of the big guy deciding what’s best for the little guy.”

“That’s right. Now give daddy a kiss.”

Flynn’s stomach curdles when Yuri does just that, leaning up to plant his lips on Manny’s. Manny traps Yuri in the crook of his arm, greedily deepening their kiss. The other members of Manny’s group egg him on, jeering and laughing. Yuri finally slaps Manny, after his hand edges low enough to almost squeeze his rear.

“What have I said, Manfred?!”

“C’mon baby, when are you gonna sleep with me properly? You gave Guy more attention than me today, I’m jealous! And you got this short little number on...” Manny forces Yuri to press against him, hiking his dress further up his back. “You know I don’t care you got a dick.”

Flynn sits up, his teeth grit so hard they could crack. Before he can act, the woman sitting next to him picks his pocket, holding up the handcuffs he’d stowed in his coat. She whoops excitedly.

“Manny, we got a kinky fucker here! Check these out!”

Manny laughs that laugh, catching the cuffs in one hand while pinning Yuri with the other. “Mister Cecil, blastia grade cuffs? Looks like you excavated something straight from the Imperial Knights, you naughty boy!” He grins at Yuri, opening one of the cuffs and aiming for his wrist. “Maybe this will make you easier to handle, eh?”

The cuff clicks closed over Yuri’s left wrist. From his right emerges a knife.

Dark blood splatters over the glass hookah, and the music is cut short by a horrible scream. Flynn is on his feet already, Yuri at his side. Three fingers lie severed on the silk cushion. Manny screams obscenities, clutching at his bleeding hand.

“I’ve had enough of this,” Yuri snaps, his knife at the back of Manny’s neck. “Tell me where Higen is or you’ll never walk again.”

“Heliord! H-he’s at Heliord! Don’t--!”

Flynn grasps at Yuri’s elbow, taking in the room. Almost everyone here is armed, weapons coming to rise. Someone aims a gun at Flynn’s skull, and he realizes his hat is gone.

“That’s the Commandant of the Imperial Knights!” Someone shouts. The din in the room grows more frantic. People begin to leave, taking the panic into the bar. Yuri curses. He cracks the hilt of his knife into Manny’s head, knocking him unconscious. His wild eyes fly to meet Flynn’s. 

“Run!”

_ BANG! _

A bullet whizzes past Flynn’s ear. Water and glass spray across his side as an axe swings and misses him, cracking open a bong. Deafened by the chaos, Flynn focuses on Yuri’s back as he runs, stopping only to throw a table behind him. They manage to make it up the steps two at a time, emerging into the dilapidated mansion. Yuri and Flynn drag a nearby chest onto the trap door, buying them precious time.

Yuri grabs Flynn by the coat before he can move and shoves him towards the stairwell. “Listen to me! You head up the stairs and get onto the roof! I’ll lead them out through the front door, they’ll lose you!”

“You can’t take on Manny’s group by yourself. I’m not leaving you, Yuri!” Flynn grabs onto Yuri’s arm. The adrenaline pumping through him, the excitement of seeing Yuri again-- it’s unbearable to think of throwing him to the wolves for his own sake.

Yuri glances back to the trap door, violent thudding and smashing sounds coming from the floor. The chest can only hold so long. “Yes, you are, you can’t risk getting caught like this. The backlash would be unimaginable, do you understand? We’d be playing right into the hands of your enemies-- FLYNN?!”

Flynn fastens the loose end of the cuffs to his right arm. “I go where you go.”

“ _ I’m going to fucking kill you!! _ ” Yuri shrieks.

The trap door bursts open, the chest falling through the splintered wood. Without another word, Yuri drags Flynn up the stairs by his wrist. He shatters a window with his knife and forces Flynn through first. They clamber onto the roof, into the cool night of Dahngrest. Shouting follows them while they dash along the shingles. Flynn barely keeps up with Yuri as they jump a short gap onto another building.

The architecture of Dahngrest is tightly grouped, fitting together as many buildings as possible in a once-limited boundary. Most of the roofs are gabled, the danger of slipping just as stark as the danger of being caught by the angry mob pursuing them. Yuri traverses the heights with ease, only just held back by Flynn and the loss of free motion in his left hand. If they weren’t in immediate danger, Flynn could admire Yuri’s agility all day long.

Climbing higher and higher, Flynn and Yuri find themselves running above the main street of Dahngrest, lit by lamp posts. Despite the time of night, the street market is always bustling, and the commotion on the rooftops is quickly noticed. Yuri is singularly focused on running, shouting directions to Flynn,  _ jump, left, watch your footing _ \-- so much so that he nearly falls off the edge as they come to a dead end.

They breathe heavily, the cold air aching in Flynn’s lungs. Yuri grins at him, staring down at the ground. “End of the line, Commandant! Looks like we’re jumping!”

“Are you crazy?!” Flynn wheezes, “That’s a fifty foot drop!”

“Aw, don’t tell me you’re scared?!”

Flynn sputters, glaring at Yuri. “I’m not scared, I’m just not suicidal!”

“Baby, either we jump or we get torn apart by mobsters! Take my hand!” Yuri clasps Flynn’s fingers between his and braces his legs. “Ready?! Three! Two!”

“Yuri, wait!”

Yuri fixes his steely gaze on Flynn and waits. Behind them, the roar of their pursuers gets louder, and the sinking feeling in his stomach bottoms out. He squeezes Yuri’s hand and nods.

“One!” They shout together, and on the final beat they jump.


	4. Trust

A clatter and a crash interrupted the relative quiet of the merchant quarter of Zaphias. Shouting followed Flynn as he dashed from the storefront, clutching a canvas bag in his hands. On his heels, a pair of knights chased in hot pursuit. This was not how this was supposed to go.

What Flynn lacked in speed, he made up for in endurance. He managed to outpace the knights behind him, their clanking armor holding them back just enough to keep the lanky Flynn ahead.

He turned a corner into a dead-end alley and held up his stolen goods. He grinned as they left his hands, even as he never slowed. Flynn hit the brick wall at the end of the alley, and the knights that pursued him had him cornered.

“Alright, kid, just give us what you stole and we’ll be on the way.” The stout knight with an ill-fitting helmet held out his hand, sweat pouring down his neck. The other, taller knight could barely speak for wheezing, although his attempt to stay straight-backed was almost admirable.

“I don’t have anything.” Flynn held out his hands. His heart hammered away at his chest. He’d never been good at lying. “Why were you guys chasing me?”

Stout knight lifted his visor and stared at Flynn, probably the most annoying preteen street-rat he’d ever had the displeasure of addressing. Presumptively, he patted Flynn down, looking for the items that just had to be hidden in his threadbare clothing.

“I don’t think he has it, Cookston,” the taller knight groaned. “Why did we chase this kid down anyway?”

“Because a thief is a thief, Dagwood,” Cookston punctuated with grit teeth, “and we have to teach these children that their actions have consequences!”

“But I d-didn’t steal anything.” Flynn swallowed, staring anywhere but at the knight. Staring up at the rooftops. The knight grabbed his face and forced him to look into his eyes.

“Then _ why were you running away?!  _ Innocent people  _ never _ run! You’ll rot in jail, kid!”

A sharp whistle sounded down the mouth of the alleyway, and both knights turned in impressive unison. “You boys looking for this?!” Yuri held up a canvas bag, a giant grin on his face.

“Wait, were we chasing a girl?” Dagwood murmured.

“Idiot, go after her!” Cookston charged as Yuri took off, and Dagwood whined as he followed. Flynn waited until the sound of clanking armor completely disappeared, and he emerged out of the alley.

Yuri dropped down from the gables and grabbed him in a hug, laughing brightly. Flynn squeezed him tight. “That was  _ so cool! _ We did it! You were so amazing!! Hey Flynn, are you okay?”

“I really hate stealing,” Flynn said, his limbs shaking as badly as his voice. “I  _ really _ hate lying, too. I was so scared, Yuri. W-we should have just saved up the money for the medicine. What if they come back and find us?”

“It was for a good cause, okay? You’re not a bad person for stealing, okay?” Yuri rubbed his back. “It’s their fault for only selling the medicine to rich people, right? Now we can help everyone, and nobody else has to die like Hanks’s friend.”

Flynn pulled back, staring into Yuri’s eyes. They were so full of conviction, of passion, of pride. He nodded decisively. “You’re right. We should get out of here before they come back.”

 

\--

 

Flynn’s boots rip through canvas, and he lands in something rubbery and wet. Squid. He immediately checks on Yuri, who seems to have had the same idea about him. 

“Are you alright?”  
“Still with me?”

They stare at each other for a split second, and then burst into laughter. Their brief relief is cut by the sound of more shouting, this time by a merchant who is very angry about their caravan.

Yuri tugs at Flynn’s wrist and they both rise. After a shared glance, they kick the merchant off of their platform and take control of their horses. The newly piloted caravan rattles down the cobbles, the oil lamp swinging against the frame, baskets of fish falling out the back.

“Sorry! I’ll getcha back!” Yuri shouts behind them.

They don’t slow down until they’re far out of Dahngrest, several miles deep into one of the forests that sprawl over Tolbyccia. Flynn is covered in fish juice, and it stings in the fine cuts he sustained from shattered glass in the hookah lounge. His legs ache from all the running and jumping, and his ears still ring from the gunshot that nearly took off his head. And his wrist…

Flynn reaches into his pockets with his left hand, checking his breast and even his boots. “Uh.”

“What?” Yuri glances back at him from the rider’s platform.

“I can’t find the key to the handcuffs,” He mutters, his cheeks reddening.

“Well, yeah. Manny has them.” Yuri lifts a brow. “I figured we’d just shatter the chain when we got a chance.”

“These handcuffs-- they were specifically made to be impossible to destroy. By either magic or weapons-- ow!” Flynn tries to back away from Yuri who furiously pinches his cuffed forearm.

“You idiot! You goddamn idiot, you knew that and you still cuffed yourself to me?!”

“I thought it was a good idea at the time! I didn’t want you to run off! Stop pinching me!”

“Did you realize you cuffed our dominant hands? Idiot?!”

“That wasn’t on purpose! You asshole--” Flynn grabs at Yuri’s wrist. Both men struggle to gain the upper hand, so to speak, swatting and smacking at each other’s arms and face. Flynn shouts in frustration. “Stop stop stop! Just stop! We’re acting like children! Keep your eyes on the damn path!”

They ride in seething silence. After some time, Flynn speaks up again.

“Where are you taking us? We need to get back to Zaphias if we want to get these cuffs off as soon as possible. I also need to inform--”

“We’re going to Heliord,” Yuri interrupts stiffly. “There’s no time. I’m in the middle of a mission. Which you ruined, by the way.”

“I was not informed that you were undercover.” Flynn squints at Yuri. “For some reason.”

“Because I knew that you wouldn’t approve it!”

“For good reason! What you did was dangerous! Not to mention humiliating!” Flynn gestures at him up and down, acutely aware of the pink flush on his cheeks. “You’re dressed like a harlot!”

“That was the point! You’re such a prude! Just because the dress is a little short--”

“--a LITTLE short?!”

“-- and I’m wearing a thong doesn’t mean I’m humiliated by it!” Yuri glares back at him. “I kinda like the feminine side of me, thank you very much!”

“That’s not what I’m saying, Yuri--!” The cart jolts as the horses take them off a ledge, sending Yuri falling off the platform with a shout. Flynn snags him by his cuffed arm before he’s pulled underneath. He claws at his dress and drags him back into the caravan.

“Nice catch,” Yuri pants. He checks Flynn’s wrist. “Not dislocated?”

“No, no.”

“Too bad.”

“You’re being an asshole.” Flynn tugs his hand away. He notices Yuri’s right side with a start, at the splintered wood jutting out of his side and staining his dress with blood. “Yuri, you’re wounded.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Yuri turns, noticeably wincing. “I broke the frame of the caravan when we fell through the top. I didn’t even notice.”

“Now who’s an idiot? Let me see it.” Flynn takes him by the shoulder and forces Yuri to face him again. He looks over the wounds. Without asking, he starts to pull the splinters out, ignoring Yuri’s hiss of pain. He presses his palm against the bleeding wounds, staunching the blood as best as he can. “This is what you get for not wearing armor. You don’t have the luxury of a bohdi blastia anymore, you can’t take as many hits as you could before. Not to mention the potential for infection.”

“Then don’t mention it,” Yuri grumbles. “I was going to take care of it in Heliord.”

Flynn manages to retrieve the scrap of cloth from his jacket, clutching it in his unbloodied hand.  “Okay, let’s try this… Holy spirits, hear my request. Heal the wounds before me with the blessing of this earth’s kindness. I cast First Aid.”

As Flynn speaks, the formula on the cloth glows ever so gently. The oil lamp hanging from the caravan’s frame burns a little brighter. Little glowing lights like fireflies come alive in the flame, and they drift down to gather around Flynn’s fingers. The feeling is warm and tingly, and the cuts on his hands heal. He strokes down Yuri’s side, leaving behind a streak of light; Yuri shivers and tries to suppress a moan. When the light fades, his wounds are closed.

“D-damn, that worked,” Yuri grunts, lifting his arm to look at his side.

“I’m still not sure how it works, but it has something to do with spirits and the collection of mana. It’s not like how blastia filtered aer.” Flynn flexes his hand, looking at it back and front. “There are the major spirits--”

“-- and the minor spirits, I know. I also attended Rita’s Spirits 101 class. I’m also accidentally enrolled in all of the advanced classes just by being around her.” Yuri lifts a brow.

“S-sorry, I just--”

“No, I know, you go into explanation mode. It’s your thing as a leader type. You’re just so damn helpful.” Yuri stretches out, testing his torso. “It feels as good as the old aid. Thanks. Now, I’m going to take us to Heliord. Hold your complaints because I don’t care.”

“Won’t I make your super secret mission more difficult? Being the Commandant.” Flynn shifts with Yuri, letting him climb back onto the rider’s platform and take control of the reins again. The horses shake out their feather-like manes and resume a brisk pace.

Yuri scoffs. “You know, it could be worse. At least I know you can keep up with me.” He shoots a smirk back at Flynn before turning back to the road.

 

The sun begins to rise as they reach the bridge into Heliord, casting a pink glow over the top of the waterfalls that edge the north of town. They abandon the caravan just outside; Yuri takes pity on the beasts that brought them here and lets them go free, appreciatively scratching their necks before they wander off.

“There’s no chance they’ll have keys for this thing here?” Yuri takes the lead across the bridge. A slight wind carries the refreshing spray from the falls over them. Yuri lifts his head and takes a deep breath.

“No. I procured these from the archives.” Flynn avoids Yuri’s accusatory grin. “The only spare keys left are there… these used to interact with bohdi blastia, only a Captain or above could unlock them without the key.”

“Let me get this straight--”

“I implore you to not get anything straight,” Flynn grumbles with a flush on his cheeks, but Yuri persists.

“You stole blastia parts from the Imperial Knights? For me?”

“I’m the Commandant. It’s not stealing. It’s borrowing without informing the archivist of my intentions, of which I am not obligated.” Flynn gives Yuri a cool look. “I didn’t know what I was going to find when I came out here. I wanted to have these to use at my discretion.”

They stop at the door of the Heliord Inn, and Yuri beams at Flynn. “You know, sometimes I forget that you’re actually a human being and not some angelic creature, and then you do stuff like this.” He lifts their cuffs and Flynn’s wrist dangles. “You make mistakes just like the rest of us.

Flynn’s brow furrows. “I’ve always made mistakes, Yuri.”

“Yeah, but not as many as I have.”

 

The bell to the door jingles as they walk into the inn, the frost of the morning chasing them into the warmth. The inn’s resident merchant is already setting up his stand, and the innkeeper interrupts their idle chat to greet his visitors. The cordial expression on his face changes to one of shock.

“Commandant Flynn, is that you?! What happened to you two?”

They approach the counter. Yuri takes point behind Flynn as he addresses the innkeep. “Charles, it’s good to see you. We’re looking for a certain guild, could you help us?”

“Of course,” Charles replies slowly. “Anything for the Commandant, but…”

“I need any information you have on New Realm, please. Any groups forming around here, any representatives or recruitment attempts.”

Charles clears his throat. “Shouldn’t you be asking the knights? One of the Twelve Spears is supposed to come by soon to take his post--”

“It would be in our best interests if you pretended we were never here,” Flynn interrupts, placing a hand to his chest. “Yuri and I need to be discreet. We ran into some trouble, and I know we can rely on you and your establishment to assist us. Unfortunately, I must ask you for a room and access to the bath, as well. I’m sorry to bother you.”

“No, it’s no bother,” Charles waves him off. “I’m honored to provide help. As for New Realm, I’ve got a whole stack of pamphlets here that one of their members left. If you could take them off my hands, that would be fantastic.” Sliding colorful paper across the counter, Flynn picks up a couple and slips them away for later.

Yuri lifts a hand to the merchant, who also stares. “Hey Sal. Got any clothes for us?”

“The dress I made…! It’s ruined!” Sal groans, reaching his hands out to mourn his creation. “I’ll make you another, Yuri Lowell, just say the word!"

“Make the hem longer,” Flynn says hurriedly. Yuri elbows him in the ribs.

“I think this time we need something easier to move in. Something we can get on over our arms.” Yuri presents their cuffs, prompting Charles and Sal to exchange shocked glances. “Don’t worry, when this is all over, I’ll tell you all about it. It’ll probably be hilarious later.”

 

Room key in hand, and measurements offered to Sal, the intrepid duo make their way to the bath. The sound of an engine kicking into life and accelerating to a dull roar fills the hallway; Flynn assumes it’s the hot water being prepared for the two of them. Sure enough, the tiled bathroom is already steamy as they enter, a large tub filling with clean water. Fresh towels have been set off to the side, along with robes monogrammed with a fancy ‘B’.

His heart catches in his throat. He hasn’t been nude around Yuri for many years. And now, with less than four inches of space between their wrists, they don’t get a lot of space to cleanse themselves privately. He swallows hard, sneaking a look at Yuri, only to be surprised to find him looking back at him.

“You aren’t nervous, are you?” Yuri grins. He reaches under his dress and twirls his knife in his hand; the same one that he used to slice Manny’s fingers off. “C’mon, you gotta cut this thing off me.”

“You can’t do it yourself?” Flynn’s blush spreads to his ears. He pouts while Yuri laughs at him.

“You’re about to get a real eyeful of me naked, you can’t get all shy about it now. I don’t know if you noticed, but we don’t have the luxury of personal space.” Yuri nudges him. “C’mon, Flynn.”

Sighing, Flynn takes the knife. Having his dominant hand cuffed is more inconvenient than he expects as he fumbles with the straps of the dress while Yuri’s arm is in the way. The dress itself is easy to cut, fortunately, the silky fabric coming apart as soon as he passes the blade through. It slips down Yuri’s body and pools at his feet, leaving him in just a black thong. The thong has a knife holster. And just above the waistband, a nasty, star-shaped scar flares over his left hip. Flynn can’t help but stare, at the scar, at the jut of his hip bones, at the abdomen muscles that look carved into his marble-pale skin.

“Yeah, yeah, okay, I know the holster is funny. It helped, didn’t it?” Yuri snatches the knife back, breaking Flynn’s gaze. “I’ll have you know, this banana hammock is surprisingly comfortable. And I didn’t have any panty lines.” He gets to work on cutting off Flynn’s clothing, a lot more laborious of a job. “What is this dumb jacket made of, dragon skin?”

Flynn is thankful for the distraction. “Boarskin, actually. I thought it made me look cool.”

Yuri laughs. He finally cuts open one sleeve and helps Flynn shed it off. “You’d look better in this dress. Leather makes you look weird.” He holsters the knife and helps Flynn with the straps of his leather armor. Yuri’s smirk disappears as soon as the harness comes off.

“What?” Flynn looks down at his bare chest, only to see the giant burn scar that covers the left of his chest, like a starburst. A flash of light and a searing pain… “Ah. That’s from Alexei. From Zaude.”

Yuri stares for a long moment, his hand lingering just over his skin, before the smirk returns. He grabs at Flynn’s chest hair and tugs, making Flynn yelp. “Nah, your chest is just hairy. That’s less of a treasure trail and more like a gold rush.” Flynn shoves him back and Yuri laughs. They finish stripping and slip into the hot water.

Flynn dunks his head and emerges with a deep breath, the water just hot enough for him to handle. The heat sinks into his muscles, into his sore sticky skin. As he settles back against the smooth tile ledge of the tub, he feels his exhaustion for the first time.

Yuri emerges from the water too, stealing Flynn’s arm to run his hands through his long hair. The water turns pinkish as he rinses the smoke and blood from his skin. A pair of ring-shaped bruises form on his shoulder from where Flynn bit him, coupled with reddened hickeys. His ribs are clearly visible, now that Flynn can really watch him moving, and there are some other healing wounds that he hadn’t caught before while distracted by the ones on his side. Despite being so gorgeous, he looked wrung out. Like a shadow of the man Flynn knew.

“You look awful, Yuri. Is this mission why I haven’t seen you?” Flynn asks gently. Yuri pauses. “Why didn’t you contact me?”

Yuri shrugs. “I can handle this myself. You’re busy doing everything, you don’t need to get involved in a little guild drama.”

“If people are disappearing, it’s more than just a little drama,” Flynn counters. “Why isn’t Brave Vesperia involved in this? Are you working with anyone, or did you just decide to try the lone wolf thing again?”

“Is that why you came running? Because you thought I was going to go on a murder spree?” Yuri growls, his eyes narrowed.

“I can’t lie, the fear crossed my mind. But I was mostly worried because it’s a stark change for you.” Flynn steels himself against Yuri’s glare. “You’ve been so dedicated to Brave Vesperia’s creed: all for the guild and the guild for all.”

“Brave Vesperia already tried to figure out New Realm, and they took a bunch of our members in some weird recruitment scheme. They ended up dead in the alley outside our building. No marks on them. No way of proving it was New Realm.” Flynn covers his mouth. Yuri grimaces. “It was like a message. ‘Don’t fuck with us.’ Karol was devastated. I’ve never seen him so upset. I had to force him to leave his room to even eat. So I just made the executive decision to handle it myself. Gather evidence, so that the Union and the Empire can actually do something about these creeps. I’ll accept the consequences of going off on my own.”

Flynn sits up and tenses the chain on their cuffs. “So that they could do the same to you? Can you imagine what that would do to Karol?”

_ What that would do to me? _

“Do you really think I haven’t thought about that?!” Yuri jerks his wrist. “Karol means the world to me, that _ guild _ means the _ world _ . But I’m trying to do this your way, Flynn! Instead of taking the quick-n-dirty road to justice, and just offing the bastards responsible for this, I’m collecting the pieces of the puzzle that no one else is willing or able to get. And then no one else will get hurt.”

Flynn runs his hand down his face. “Just… what about you? Being there alone without backup, without anyone knowing where you were. You only had a knife, and no armor. And that man treating you like a piece of meat…” Flynn trails off. His eyes fall to the mysterious, severe scar on Yuri’s hip. Yuri opens his mouth to say something, but Flynn stops him with a raised hand. “I know you can handle yourself. I’ve seen it. I saw it in that bar. I just wish you trusted me a little more. If I knew how bad it was getting, I could have provided you with help.”

Guilt crosses over Yuri’s face. He averts his eyes and lets his arms fall to his sides. “I  _ do _ trust you, Flynn. With my life.”

“Good.” Flynn offers his free fist. “Then let me help you this time. Okay?”

Yuri smirks. “Like you have a choice.” He knocks his fist against Flynn’s, and they follow through with a high-five. “You know, you don’t have to worry about me like that all the time.”

“I can’t help myself.” Flynn smiles, his face going soft. “Not when it comes to you.”

Yuri’s mouth goes slack. “That’s-- Flynn. You can’t just say stuff like that.”

“You’re blushing,” Flynn teases.

“Shut up. I’m still pissed at you,” Yuri grumbles. “Pass me the shampoo, would you?”

 


	5. Distraction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter warning: sexual content
> 
> (If you wanna skip the sexual stuff, there's a little in the memory opening, and then at the very end of the chapter and it's pretty easy to see the line where it starts. :3)
> 
> Thank you for reading!

Flynn lost his virginity at sixteen years old.

There was this girl who traveled with her merchant father. They visited Zaphias about once a month, and she shamelessly flirted with him every time he stopped by to pick up something new for dinner. He had little interest in her besides a passing attraction, but Yuri egged him on. It became an embarrassing inside joke. So when she invited Flynn on a nighttime outing, it was Yuri who dressed him up and pushed him out the door.

Flynn returned a couple hours later, his tie slack around his neck.

“Hey! Did you get some?” Yuri didn’t look up from his book until a full ten seconds passed without an answer. He squinted at Flynn only to find him grimacing.

“Don’t make fun of me.” Flynn stripped his jacket and dropped it to the floor. “... I couldn’t maintain an erection.”

“You’re kidding.” Yuri leaned forward onto his knees. “Too nervous?”

“No… I don’t know. Yes?” Flynn sighed, scrubbing his hand through his hair. “That book you gave me was informative enough. I just, erm, I tried performing cunnilingus…”

“You can just say you ate her out. You don’t have to use the book terms.”

Flynn covered his face with both hands. “She let me go for twenty minutes before she pushed me off. I just left out of shame.”

“Twenty minutes?!” Yuri stood up. “Oh, Flynn.”

“I really just want a shower.” Flynn drops his head back and groans. “Maybe a beer.”

“I don’t need twenty minutes for that.” Yuri winked. “Go shower. And brush those teeth, Cunning Linguist.”

Flynn swatted Yuri before they left to do their tasks. When Flynn returned from his bath, Yuri was already sitting on the bed with a bottle of brandy.

“Hope this is okay. It tastes terrible.” He swirled the liquid, the handle already drank down. “C’mere, come sit by uncle Yuri. Drink away your girl troubles.”

Flynn snorted, coming to flop down next to Yuri. He swigged straight from the bottle and nearly choked on the burning sweet-and-sour, but there was something cleansing about it. They both got drunk far too quickly, hardly half the bottle gone before they hid it under Yuri’s bed.

Flynn curled up under the covers with Yuri. Yuri’s fingers in his hair nearly lulled him to sleep, until Flynn’s hands wandered underneath his shirt. That time, he really did lose his virginity, as Flynn and Yuri held each other in shuddering arms and traded awkward kisses. They hadn’t even removed their clothes. The moment went by in a flash.

The next morning, they acted like it had never happened. The brandy mysteriously disappeared.

 

\--

 

“When was the last time you slept?” Yuri thumbs at the bags under Flynn’s eye, exposing the pink of his socket. Flynn flinches back.

“Hell of a question,” he says around a mouthful of food, “considering you look like you haven’t slept OR eaten in a week.”

On the floor of their room, Yuri and Flynn share a bowl of beef curry over rice. Yuri scrambled eggs into the rice at Flynn’s insistence, ‘to make it more like breakfast’ and to add protein. In truth, he’d been worried about how skinny Yuri looked in the bath. The egg rice isn’t too bad, in Flynn’s opinion. The curry could be spicier, though.

They’ve been provided with pants to sleep in, and Sal the merchant promised proper clothing for them by tonight. For now, they’re shirtless. Flynn blames his worry about Yuri’s well-being for all the covert staring he’s doing.

Yuri smacks Flynn’s forehead. “Don’t talk with your mouth full. You have an example to set.” He takes a big bite of rice, smirking as he chews. “You represent all of the Knights.”

“And you represent Brave Vesperia, hypocrite.” Flynn taps Yuri’s nose with his spoon. “Don’t be a dick. So, we need some plan of attack for tonight, after we sleep. Clearly, we look conspicuous. Also, their defenses will be up, they’ll know that you’re looking for Higen. He might not even be here anymore.”

“If he isn’t, we can at least get more information about New Realm. This pamphlet is specifically for Heliord. Mentions a fancy meeting every night.” Yuri picks up the folded paper, New Realm’s logo stamped on the front with fresh ink. “We’re gonna infiltrate it. Pretend to be interested parties.”

“So, how are we going to do that?” Flynn picks up his cuffed hand and jangles the chain.

“I’ve been mulling it over, and the only way we could get away with another disguise is if we held hands. Standing really close would just look awkward.” Yuri stares into the curry, stirring it absently. “We could pretend to be newlyweds. I asked Sal to give me feminine clothes again.”

Flynn pauses with his spoon in his mouth. _Newlyweds_. “You wanna reprise Eva?”

“Nah, Eva was my whole prostitute persona. I’m thinking something more demure. We need a better name than Guy Cecil for you, too… Maybe a wig.” Yuri shrugs. His hair, still damp, falls over his shoulder. Flynn wants to brush it behind his ear. He wants to pull it back into a nice braid, maybe experiment with different styles. He wants to take it between his fingers and pull a little bit... “Flynn, quit staring.”

“Let me braid your hair,” he blurts.

“One handed?” Yuri grins. “Sure, you can try. What do you think of the name Sheena?”

“It’s cute. I think you’d make a good Sheena. But I thought maybe you could go by Yuki.”

“That’s only one letter away from my name, genius. How about we call you Blynn, then, and I’ll go with Yuki.”

“We were in the knights with a Blynn, don’t you remember?” Flynn can’t keep a straight face. Yuri flicks rice at him as they both laugh like stupid teenagers.

 

Their sleeping arrangement should be fairly easy. The mattress is a queen, so if they both sleep on their backs, they have plenty of space with just their arms touching. Yuri and Flynn close the curtains in the room, casting them into sudden darkness. The only bit of light is the sliver of sunlight that they can’t manage to extinguish from the bottom of the window. Yuri yawns, right on cue.

“Alright, I call little spoon,” he says, deciding delicate procedure on a whim. “C’mon, Flynn. If we’re going to get any sleep before we do this, it needs to be now.” Yuri pats Flynn’s hip and leads them to their bed.

“Little spoon? B-but there’s room on the bed for us to just spread out. We don’t need to cuddle, that’d require positioning the chain...” Flynn clears his throat. He’s grateful for the darkness.

“You prefer sleeping on your side, right?” The bed squeaks as Yuri sinks into it, and Flynn has no choice but to follow. “Don’t worry, I don’t care. Unless you’re freaked out by it?”

“N-no, no. No, it’s fine. I thought you’d want to sleep on your back and have your space. I can’t believe you remember something like that.”

“We used to share a bed, of course I do. You complained so much if you didn’t get to sleep on your side of the bed.” Flynn can hear Yuri’s grin in his voice. Following his lead, Flynn lies on his left side, draping his right arm over Yuri’s torso. Yuri’s left hand can rest there too, and the chain of the handcuffs lies between. It’s surprisingly comfortable. “You don’t have to scoot so far away, you know. Can you get the blanket?”  


Flynn doesn’t sleep. Not for lack of trying. Somehow, Yuri has passed out, practically dead to the world, his nose buzzing as he snores. His body is warm and comfortable to hold. It reminds Flynn of how they’d sleep as kids, even as young men, something they’d gotten used to over years of cold nights.

When they stopped sleeping in the same space, it took Flynn forever to have a good night’s rest. His time in the Knights after Yuri left had forced him to adhere to a strict sleeping schedule, and that was the only reason he’d been able to sleep through the night afterwards.

Now, ironically, having Yuri so close to him didn’t help him fall asleep at all. Overwhelming him is his heat, his smell, his silky hair against his cheek, and worst of all, his bare back pressed against him. His hand lying right there, next to Flynn’s.

 _When did this happen? When did I start to want Yuri so badly?_ Flynn squeezes his eyes shut, a wave of painful desire washing through him. It feels like swallowing hot ore, melting down through his chest and his stomach only for it to pool molten in his pelvis. No matter what he does, what he thinks about, how hard he buries his nails into his palms, that sandalwood and vanilla scent on his neck brings him back to Yuri.

Relenting, he presses close to Yuri’s back. He manages to fall into a fitful rest.

He wakes up later to Yuri’s hand gripping his wrist. A sheen of cold sweat covers his twitching body and he shivers, he whimpers, he sobs. Flynn stirs and lifts his head, blinking away his fatigue to squint at Yuri in the darkness. “Yuri? Are you okay?” He moves his hand to take his.

Yuri strikes like lightning. As if possessed, he attacks Flynn with his whole body, disregarding the way the handcuffs twist their arms. The sheets tangle around them as Flynn tries to wrestle him away. His back hits the floor and Yuri is on top of him, Yuri’s hands squeeze around his neck, Yuri’s eyes are feral and frightened and bloodthirsty.

Flynn gasps for air. He claws at Yuri’s wrists, trying to form words as tears come to his eyes.

“Please,” he wheezes.

The spell over Yuri is broken. His grip loosens on Flynn’s neck. Yuri’s breath comes short and quick, soon shaky, and he whimpers and sinks down to rest his head on Flynn’s chest. “Sorry, I’m sorry,” he gasps. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

Flynn rubs Yuri’s back, blearily blinking up at the ceiling. He swallows, his throat throbbing with pain. “Lady Estellise told me you had night terrors. They’re still happening?” His voice is hoarse.

“It’s fine,” Yuri says, shaking his head. Flynn feels tears dropping to his skin, and Yuri wipes them away. “I really-- I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Yuri.” Flynn strokes his hair away from his face. “Yuri, talking about it could help--”

“You’re hard.”

“What?” Flynn jerks his head up to look at Yuri. Yuri rises slowly, forms a grin, and Flynn realizes Yuri is straddled over his pelvis. And then he realizes that, yes, he’s erect. He must have gotten an erection just before he woke up, or maybe during the struggle. Mortification rises in his throat. “That’s--”

“I should have known you’d get off on danger, Commandant.” Yuri’s voice goes husky. He cants his hips, as if to prove something. Flynn jerks in response, his body and his voice betraying him. “Oho, look at you. How long has it been since you’ve jacked off?”

Flynn’s mind reels. This isn’t the right time for this. Yuri’s hair trails over his bare skin, tickling in a distracting way, and Yuri presses his weight into his hips, trapping Flynn’s cock. He exhales shakily; Yuri’s own arousal is responding to the pressure, and he can feel him growing against him. When _was_ the last time he’d masturbated? His memory tracks back to the day after Yuri left, almost two months ago, a lonely fantasy of Yuri interrupting him in his office with a hand in his pants.

“I don’t remember,” Flynn mumbles, sitting up on his elbow. “This isn’t appropriate, Yuri, I know what you’re trying to do.”

“Do you?” Yuri leans forward to shift his weight onto Flynn’s chest. He’s effectively pinned. “C’mon. Let me take care of you. It’s been a while for me, too.”

Flynn grits his teeth. It’s tempting. Even if it would just be yet another fling that they’d never talk about. But Yuri’s cheeks aren’t even dry, and Flynn can feel the tremble in his fingers as he traces his free hand down his chest. Yuri doesn’t need distraction, he needs to open up.

Yuri circles the scar on Flynn’s chest thoughtfully. Leaning down, he presses a tender kiss to it. Flynn lets go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“F-fine. … Please.”

 

If Flynn looks, he’s going to finish far too quickly. Already, he can feel and hear too much; Yuri’s cock laid hot against his own, Yuri’s hand wet with saliva and stroking them both together. His hips rock in a hypnotic rhythm, so slowly, and he shudders into the air a voiceless moan.

Flynn’s palm catches his own moan, his fingers clutched over his chin as tightly as his eyes are closed. Their cuffed hands are practically worthless here, so Yuri uses Flynn’s propped-up arm as leverage, their fingers intertwined. Yuri still trembles despite his focus; does his episode still affect him? What’s going through his mind?

“You okay?” Yuri asks, his voice almost a whisper. Flynn’s eyes shoot open to find Yuri smiling at him with a good helping of worry in his brows. “You look like you’re in pain.”

Flynn’s eyes dart to where their hips connect. His cock pulses from just the image alone, his body throbs to the beat of his heart, and he has to close his eyes again for the dizziness. But he lets his hand leave his mouth. “Fuck.”

“That’s not an answer.” Yuri chuckles. “I never hear you cuss like that. It’s weird.”

“Fffuck,” Flynn slurs again, and he lifts his hips. Yuri laughs, steadying himself on Flynn’s chest. “I-I’m not used to you taking your time.”

“You in a hurry?”

“Lord, no. I’m trying to not hurry. It has been… a long, _long_ time,” Flynn breathes, his hand going through his hair. He opens his eyes again to stare at the ceiling. Yuri usually doesn’t talk while they do this kind of thing; neither of them do. Flynn can count the times they’ve done this on one hand, though.

“It would be pretty embarrassing if you shot your load before me,” Yuri teases, and he takes the head of Flynn’s cock in his palm. Flynn gasps as he twists his wrist, focusing on the most sensitive part of him, the calluses on his skin heightening the sensation. It’s a dirty trick, and Flynn jerks his hips up again with a growl.

“Yu-Yuri,” he warns, squeezing their entwined hands and squirming under him. Yuri responds with another breathy chuckle, his thighs locked at Flynn’s sides. The pressure that he’d steadily built rises to a peak all too quickly, setting Flynn’s entire body on a trembling edge. “Yuri--! Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ \--!”

Flynn sits up suddenly, jerks his right hand back, and Yuri is forced forward by the short chain on his wrist. His chin connects with Flynn’s shoulder, and most importantly, he loses his hold on him. Flynn replaces Yuri’s fist, grasping the both of them.

“Flynn-- aahn!” Yuri groans out loud, bucking his hips into Flynn’s tight grip. He tucks his head against Flynn’s neck and leaves kisses there as Flynn continues their frottage. His moans spur Flynn on, interspersed with murmurs of encouragement, until he reaches a point where all he can do is whimper.

Regardless of his effort, Flynn still finishes first, his orgasm so intense that his jaw hangs open and his eyes roll. Yuri’s voice returns to him when he comes, and he clutches to Flynn’s scalp, all the while groaning “yeah, yeah, aaah yeah--!”

Yuri slumps against Flynn. For a long moment, they sit like that, letting their breathing return to normal. Flynn’s throat is even more hoarse now. Reality settles in like the sunset past the curtain, settles deep in Flynn’s sensitive gut; that feeling of molten ore returns, a mingling sense of need and regret. He stares ahead at the opposite wall. Yuri is so heavy.

The moment passes. Yuri sits up with a deep breath, a lazy smile on his face. “Thanks man. I needed that.”

“Yeah.” Flynn smiles back half-heartedly. A bandage over a stab wound. His eyes drift to the star-shaped scar on Yuri’s hip. “Is it about time to get going?”

“Let’s rest a little more. Get cleaned up. I don’t know about you, but my legs feel like jelly.” Yuri giggles stupidly, tugging at the handcuffs. “Carry me, would you?”

“Forget that,” Flynn snorts, standing.

Forget that Yuri attacked him after a night terror, forget the fear in his eyes. Forget the pleasure they felt together while trying to escape their demons.

Just forget it. There are important things to be done.


	6. Holding Hands

“We should have a secret handshake.” Yuri balanced himself on the lip of the fountain in the lower quarter, stepping heel-to-toe. Flynn blinked up at him from his seat on the edge.

“Secret? Like, we keep it from everyone?”

“Well, like, we’re the only ones who do it. And then everyone watches and is like, hey, I wanna try, and we go, NO!” Yuri lost his balance and dropped to the ground on his feet. He jumped back up onto the fountain and tried balancing again.

“That sounds really cool,” Flynn said, hand going to his chin. “Should we make it super complicated, too? So nobody can copy it?”

“Hell yeah!” Yuri grinned at Flynn, exposing the gap in his smile where one of his baby teeth had fallen out. He slipped back onto the ground after a near-fall into the fountain. “I wanna do a backflip!”

“You can’t do a backflip. You can’t even stay on the edge.” Flynn stood to imitate Yuri. He managed to stay balanced for longer, his arms stuck out to his sides. Yuri pouted.

“I’m gonna be the best at backflips. And then I’ll do a backflip during our super secret bros handshake.” Getting back onto the fountain’s edge, Yuri held out his arms like Flynn. His eyes brightened the longer he stayed on the edge, even as his arms began to tilt to and fro. “Flynn, look! I’m doing it!”

Flynn beamed, but Yuri tilted a little too far. “Yuri, be careful!”

_ Splash! _ Yuri tumbled into the fountain, flailing and sputtering. He emerged from the spray, and Flynn could see the telltale look in his eyes. He was so embarrassed and disappointed, he was about to cry. And if there was anything Yuri hated doing the most, it was crying.

So Flynn tumbled in after him, skinning his knee as he hit the stone floor. It was worth it to see Yuri’s surprise and to hear his laughter. They splashed each other and played in the fountain until someone came to yell at them.

\--

The dress provided to Yuri is black and light, with a ruched bust that gives him curves where he has none. A lacy tie goes behind Yuri’s neck to keep the dress on his torso. The hem is actually acceptable here, and Yuri wears charcoal leggings underneath.

“I just wish Sal had put a higher back on it,” Flynn mutters as he braids Yuri’s hair. Yuri has his arm lifted behind him to give Flynn use of both his hands. “Then maybe we could get some proper armor on you.”

“This thing wouldn’t hide any armor no matter how high the back is,” Yuri says, “could you just say you hate it already?”

“No way. You’re actually pretty cute in it.” Flynn finishes his french braid and turns Yuri around to look at him. His bangs are pinned up out of his face, and he’s got makeup on, some light gloss on his lips and winged eyeliner. It looks like he’s added a little too much blush. “There. You’re ready, Sheena.”

“Yuki,” Yuri corrects, tucking a loose strand behind his ear. He adjusts Flynn’s wig for him, making sure all the pins are in place. He twists his lip, disapproving. “Well, nobody will recognize you, that’s for sure.”

“What’s wrong with my disguise?” Flynn looks into the mirror, running his fingers through the sharp fuzz on his chin. He has a thick pair of glasses sitting on his nose, and his wig is long with curly, red hair. His top is a very old fashioned jacket, fashioned with many, many buttons on the sleeves that made it possible to get on even with the handcuffs. “I look like a commoner, right?”

“Yeah, and you look ridiculous. I’m glad you kept the stubble, though. Makes you rustic.” Yuri pulls a long knit shawl over his shoulders. It covers his bare arms, and most importantly conceals the cuff on his arm. He grasps Flynn’s hand and stands close, and it knocks Flynn for a loop to see them both in the mirror like this. A newlywed couple scoping out Heliord for a place to start their family.

“Thomas and Yuki Goldwell,” Flynn murmurs, staring at Yuri. “Will disguises really work this time?”

“It’s all I’ve got,” Yuri replies. “They _ are _ looking for new recruits. I think we’re lucky they didn’t recognize me when my cover was blown. And I’m hoping on the fact that nobody would believe the crazy rumor of seeing the straight-laced Commandant in a seedy brothel while visiting Dahngrest.”

Flynn freezes. “That was a brothel?”

“What did you think it was, primary school?”

“I thought it was just a bar!”

“No, buddy.” Yuri grins at Flynn’s shocked expression. “No, not at all. Oh, we can’t forget the final touches.” He kneels to the bag that their clothing came in and retrieves a box. “Flynn, will you marry me? Haha.” He opens it to show Flynn, and his stomach drops.

Two silver rings sit in a velvet cushion. One is set with an amethyst, and the other is a thick band with a square black stone. Flynn swallows, reaching for the box to get a better look at them. “Rings, huh?”

“Yeah. They’re pretty cheap, but they’ll do for now, right?”

“I suppose I wear the gaudy one.” Flynn plucks the black stone ring from the box, but Yuri snatches it back from him.

“Ah ah. Allow me.” He makes a big show of slipping the ring onto Flynn’s ring finger, and if he’s smiling, Flynn can’t tell because he is not looking at him. “Your face is so red. You’re hilarious.”

“Must you tease me?” Flynn yanks Yuri onto his feet, and rather than glare at him, he stares at the ring on his hand. “Not my first choice in jewelry.”

“Picky, picky. C’mon, hubby, let’s get into character.” Yuri clears his throat and affects his voice to be higher. “Let’s go fuck up some bad boys.”

“Such speech!” Flynn snorts and elbows Yuri as they leave their room. “Unbecoming of a lady!”  
  


It is nearly dark outside already, and the lamp posts around Heliord are lit by a single grumbling knight who passes them by without even a glance. With the sun setting past the falls, Flynn feels the chill of the evening quickened by the shadows of the northern cliffs. He’s grateful for the leather jacket, silly as it looks; at least he doesn’t have to wear a gauzy dress with only a shawl for warmth.

Yuri grasps Flynn’s hand loosely, his shawl just draped around his arms to conceal the chain and the cuffs. His palm is clammy. He leans in close to Flynn’s side as they walk, acting the part of a wife with his other hand resting on Flynn’s forearm. It feels surreal. Sure, they’d had sex only a couple hours ago, but public displays of affection are so completely unlike Yuri that it makes Flynn’s chest flutter.

_ Imagine if we held hands in Zaphias. Or through Dahngrest. Ah, Aurnion… We could look at all the new construction. There’s a cafe with a caramel cider that Yuri would die for.  _ Flynn clears his throat and tries to not indulge in that particular fantasy. He has to focus on their task.

“Sweetheart,” Yuri interrupts his thoughts in a voice far too sugary, “I want to go look at the houses for sale in the northern quarter. Where the falls are.”

Flynn licks dry lips, his tongue gummy in his mouth. Does he put on a fake voice too? Why didn’t he practice? “A-ah, pudding, the-- the houses there probably have water damage-- agh!” Yuri drags him behind some old scaffolding and smacks him in the shoulder. “What?!”

“Are you sixty years old? Nobody calls their wife ‘pudding’! You sound like Raven!”

Flynn kneads his temple with the one hand he has available to him. “Yuri, I don’t know if you know this, but I’ve never had a wife before. I thought we were trying to find that group that meets around here, the one in the pamphlet?”

Yuri rolls his eyes. “We are, I’m just trying to play it casual. Just-- just call me Yuki, don’t do nicknames. And drop the frumpy accent.”

“As long as we’re trading constructive criticism, you absolutely cannot do that voice. I cannot take you seriously.” Flynn groans. “This was a terrible idea. We should just go back to Zaphias, like I said, and I can mobilize a force to apprehend Manny and this Higen.”

“No, no,” Yuri growls through grit teeth, “we are not doing that, we’re already here, and if we wait, Higen will kidnap a whole new group of people to do who-knows-what to before he murders them. We need to find out how he’s doing this, where, and why, and  _ tonight _ .” Yuri jabs Flynn in the chest. “And might I remind you, we wouldn’t have to do it this way if you hadn’t stuck your nose where it didn’t belong! I could have just found out exactly where Higen was and dragged him to the capital myself!”

Flynn and Yuri stare each other down. A weight in Flynn’s chest quashes his flaring anger.

“Fine. We will continue doing this your way. But the moment things go south, I’m sending a message to the capital.”

“Fine. Whatever.” Yuri jerks at their wrists, making Flynn wince in pain. “Let’s go. Just try to act natural, okay?” He grasps at Flynn’s hand before they re-enter the plaza. His whole body lets out a frustrated sigh before he forces Yuki’s placid mask onto his face. Yuri returns to his position at Flynn’s arm, but he feels new tension in his touch and his grip. Flynn stares at the sky, his heart pounding in his ears. It’s all he can do to take a deep breath and let the anger and anxiety leave him. Let it leave him. His people are counting on him. 

A group of people begin to crowd around the inactive Heliord blastia, dressed for the cool night. The knights posted around the town either seem too bored to pay attention to them, or Flynn’s disguise is enough to stop anyone from recognizing him right away. To be safe, they avoid them, sticking to the socialite crowd. A nobleman approaches them as they mingle around the blastia tower. He regards them brightly, flourishing a wrist as he offers it to Yuri. “Milady, sir! Are you new to Heliord? You must be, I would absolutely remember such a handsome couple such as you.”

“Flatterer! We are, actually,” Yuri says. His voice is more silky this time. “My husband and I have just gotten married!” He offers his hand to the nobleman, who oohs and aahs politely at his ring. “We’re looking to move here; the capital is just so crowded these days, isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

“Ah, that it is.” Flynn nods. He draws the bright New Realm pamphlet out of his jacket. “We were actually hoping to find where this little meeting was being held, have you heard of it?”

“Oh, I have some exciting news for you,” the nobleman says, tweaking an end of his curled mustache, “because you are in the exact right place! I’m leading everyone on a little walk. There will be wine! I’m so happy you’re interested in New Realm, Mister…”

“Thomas, sir. Thomas Goldwell, and my darling wife Yuki.” Flynn squeezes Yuri’s hand and gets a squeeze back.

“Ah, Goldwell! A large family indeed, I know a good handful of Goldwells in Zaphias.” He laughs. “I am Joa Dahl, just Joa if you please.”

“Mister Dahl, it is my pleasure. It would be a great help to have your escort, and to meet some of our new neighbors.” Flynn shakes his hand firmly, earning an odd look from his left-handedness. “Do you perhaps know of any realtors we can speak to, as well? We want to avoid dealing with the Happy Home guild as much as we can, as well. You understand.”

“Weasels, the lot of them,” Joa agrees in a lowered voice. “You can’t trust the bulk of guilds these days, I tell you. I can indeed find someone to help you. Come, come!”

They fold into the group and begin their walk, introducing themselves. The nobility lean middle-aged, married and single alike, and are very chatty about their personal lives. A precious handful are working-class, those leftover from Heliord’s faux promise of working to become nobility, and seem delighted to be part of this group. Flynn recognizes a few of them from Zaphias. Unfortunately, the women seem especially interested in him and Yuri, a trail of them crowding the pair and asking personal questions about their marriage.

Yuri accepts a glass of white wine. Flynn declines politely.

“He’s recovering from alcoholism,” Yuri whispers to one of the women, basking in Flynn’s embarrassment as they titter sympathetically. “Oh it was dreadful, raging drunk on brandy every night. He’s so much better now, my good Tommy boy.”

“Don’t forget, Yuki,” Flynn grinds through his teeth, “you have your own problem with alcohol.”

“It’s that I don’t drink enough. Ha!” He and the women all laugh. Yuri downs his glass and offers it for a refill.

“You know, it is so adorable that you and Thomas haven’t let each other go even once,” says a noblewoman with a beehive-like hairdo. “I don’t think my husband has held me like that in fifteen years!”

“Thomas is a teeny bit possessive.” Yuri leans against Flynn’s arm and strokes it. “If I’m out of his sight for even a second, he gets antsy.”

“That’s so romantic,” another woman sighs, eyeing Flynn. He swallows down a retort.

“Sometimes, but I wish he’d just get a hobby! Don’t smother me, honey~! It’s only been a few weeks!”

The group of women agree and laugh along with Yuri, the sound like gravel down the back of Flynn’s shirt. He grips Yuri’s hand warningly. Cheekily, Yuri squeezes back thrice.

“I do love him, though. Even if he gets on my nerves.” Yuri’s head falls onto Flynn’s shoulder. “He’s my best friend. That’s why I married him.”

Flynn’s chest feels tight. He stares hard at the ground. Yuri is leaning into this improvisation thing a little too much. It almost sounds like he means what he says; like Yuki really loves Thomas, two real people in this world. Maybe Yuri should pursue a real career in acting.

“... I love you too. So much I can’t breathe, sometimes.” Flynn doesn’t have to act out the skip of his heart, nor the way he can’t look anyone in the eye. Another wave of coos and giggles emerge from the socialite group. It takes him everything he has to keep from storming off in mortification.

Thankfully, Joa announces a break in their walk around Heliord. They stop next to a cute little park bordered with bushes and laden with flowers. Further ahead is a grove of trees thick with leaves, early spring flowers shed mere weeks ago. Many of the women break away from their group to go sit on the benches, refill their wine glasses, and flirt with the other men all puffing on cigars.

A gentle kiss lands on Flynn’s cheek. “You’re doing great. I don’t think they’ve noticed anything off,” Yuri murmurs, his breath against Flynn’s ear. “I hate nobles. They’re so irritating. Did you hear that one woman about her husband? God, just dump him, right?”

“You fit in pretty well,” Flynn says with an angled brow. He faces Yuri, taking his other hand. It’s easier to talk secretly like this, and it looks like an intimate moment. “Your noble impression is spot on.”

“Take that back.” Yuri nudges him. “Hey. Sorry.”

Flynn laughs a little in disbelief. “An apology so soon?”

“Yep. I shouldn’t have got pissed. Can we move on?”

“There’s the Yuri I know. Yeah, we can.” Flynn sighs, daring to gaze over Yuri’s features. “I’m sorry too. I’m out of my element, I’m not fit for espionage like this."

“Espionage,” Yuri repeats with a smirk. “Nah, you’re more the knight in shining armor, huh?”

“Why do you think I accepted the role of Commandant? It’s because I look very, very good in the suit.”

“Eh, you look a’ight. I thought you accepted the title because you like bossing people around.”

“Well, I just like bossing you around.” Flynn pulls back to level a grin at him. “Most other people listen to me the first time I say something.”

“So the truth comes out!”

Flynn can’t help but laugh, head thrown back, and Yuri laughs with him. He forgets, briefly, that they’re on a mission that could get them killed. Yuri has always had that effect on him. His shoulders relax a little.

They part again, Yuri clinging to his arm, and Flynn becomes acutely aware of being watched. He clears his throat as they join the bulk of the walking group.

“Is there a reason we’re waiting up here?” Flynn asks Joa.

“Ah, a representative of New Realm who has been with the guild much longer than I is meeting us here.” Joa smiles and tweaks his mustache. “I encourage you to listen, especially if you are worried about our insecure future and wondering how we can bring hope with us. Considering your close bond, and your future path together, I think it could be very inspiring to you two.”

Flynn and Yuri look at each other with raised brows.  
  


It only takes a few more minutes of waiting before a woman with graying hair appears down the street, followed by a man in the garb of the Hunting Blades. Although she looks older, Flynn can see the strength in her posture even from a distance. Her hips are thicker than the rest of her, and her arms boast the tone of a woman who’s worked hard her whole life. Her fine clothing is clearly designed to allow for freedom of movement. The shell of a bohdi blastia lies around her neck as a gaudy pendant.

Yuri taps his fingers against Flynn’s knuckles. Flynn returns the gesture.

“Erika!” Joa greets the woman with a kiss to her wrist and a flourish to her waiting crowd. “Everyone, this is my dear friend Erika, the woman who inspired me to become a part of something bigger than myself!”

“Oh Joa,” Erika chuckles, gently pushing past him to address everyone. Her voice is low and sweet, impossible to misunderstand. “He has a way with words, doesn’t he? Makes you feel special and seen. That’s just his special talent. We all have at least one.”

She extends her arms, and the crowd collects as if to fit inside her embrace. The lamplight warms her face, her motherly smile uncannily familiar for something Flynn hasn’t seen before. Hidden hooks in his heart draw him to her innate kindness, despite the suspicion that cools his emotion.

“These times are frightening. Uncertain. I can see the fear in the way you stand, and I understand, because I felt it too. We had no guide to shepherd us, stumbling blindly in the dark. But I can help lead you all into our new realm.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your lovely comments and your support. Writing like this is a rare treat for me and I'm glad that people seem to enjoy it so much. Please don't be afraid to let me know what I could do better.


	7. Demonstration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry, i've had this chapter written for a while but A Lot has been happening irl lol  
> I'll try to keep working on the story as diligently as I was before, thank you for your patience!

Flynn heard the screams too late: Cumore’s last, desperate cries for mercy. If he said he rushed to the scene of the crime, he’d be lying. His soldier’s resolve wavered at the fear of what he would find.

Yuri stood at the edge of the pit and stared into the swirling abyss of sand, sword unsheathed. Their eyes met, but Flynn didn’t see Yuri in that cold gaze. Or maybe he did, and his memory twisted itself to fit his denial. What he found there couldn’t have been his best friend.

After their talk at the edge of Mantaic’s oasis, Flynn didn’t sleep for days. He barely ate. He performed his duties with a marked detachedness, his emotions pocketed like a forgotten love letter. Hidden breakdowns didn’t count, and neither did the broken knuckles on both hands from shadow boxing a brick wall. Captain Flynn had an example to set, and he would set it well. Commandant Alexei counted on him.

And still, the penalty for murder was death. That was what justice willed. Visions of Yuri swinging from a rope haunted him for weeks, his dead eyes searing holes into Flynn’s heart. It made him ill to his very soul to know that Yuri welcomed his fate, and that Flynn would have to be the one who tripped the door under his feet. But such was the word of true and final, black and white justice. 

Right?

\--

Erika’s voice projects naturally, filling the cool night of the park with her warm tone. Everyone in the crowd is enraptured by her, leaning in, their wine forgotten. Flynn keeps an eye on the guard by her side, a burly man in leathers and furs. He gazes at her just as fondly. From this close, it’s easy to see he’s undoubtedly a member of the Hunting Blades. He could have escorted Erika to Heliord, protecting her from the Tolbyccian monsters. But to remain a bodyguard was far beyond the scope of the Hunting Blades creed.

“For as long as you remember, we benefited from the energy we call aer.” Flynn’s attention remains spread, but his ear perks to Erika’s speech. “It powered our blastia. It protected our cities, propelled our boats, built our houses. It even allowed us to perform incredible feats with our own meager bodies. How many of you used bohdi blastia, for any reason? For magic? To heal? To fight?”

A good amount of the crowd lifts their hands, including Flynn. Yuri shifts closer to him.

“And then we were told that we contributed to the death of our planet for merely living.” Erika folds her hands together. “That we would have to pay for the mistakes made by the people who came thousands of years before us. That these were our sins, now. And did that not scare you? Hurt you? Did that not make you angry?”

A murmur passes through the crowd. Flynn catches Joa nodding deeply.

“You were told you had to make a choice. But you did not have one. Not really. And now you struggle to keep warm in the winter. Your homes are threatened daily by monsters that grow more numerous and powerful.” She directs an open palm to a person standing toward the front. “How has this change affected you and your family?”

The man straightens his shoulders. “My grandfather fell ill with the flu. Getting a doctor was already expensive, but now the cost is prohibitive. He passed away. His illness could have been eased in a day or two with healing blastia, but…”

“I am sorry for your loss,” Erika says as she bows her head.

“My youngest son was mauled by beasts just inside the border,” another woman blurts, a middle-aged woman who refilled Yuri’s wine glass. “He was supposed to be safe because of the knights, but they were too incompetent! Now he’s too afraid to go outside. He’s only nine years old and he’s permanently scarred inside and out. He used to love playing soccer with his friends!” She starts to shake with tears, and another woman holds her shoulder.

Yuri raises his hand. Flynn tenses as Erika lays her eyes on the pair of them.

“How is this supposed to help us feel hope for our future? You’re just scaring us.” Yuri stares her down. “We’ve all had to sacrifice, we’ve all lost things important to us, but it was for the good of the world.”

“And that’s just it, isn’t it?” Erika smiles at Yuri, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Our sacrifice was made while we were backed into a corner, but it was for the good of all. Because now, we have been given a gift that can ease our suffering. A gift that has been kept secret until now.”

“A gift? You mean the spirits?”

“Oh, no. Mana, my darling. The gift of Mana.” Erika’s hand goes to her blastia pendant. “Mana comes from aer, and so she has always been with us. Mana is many things, but what she truly represents is life. She is the mother of the spirits, and she cradles the earth in her embrace. I can teach you how to let her into your soul. That is, if you agree to join us in New Realm.”

A mixture of skeptical grumbles and interested murmurs mingle in their group. Yuri’s fingers wriggle in Flynn’s grip, and he squeezes to still them.

“Mana is just converted aer,” Yuri fires back, “it’s not a person or a spirit, it’s literally just a more efficient form of energy. Spirits convert it from aer, and we can use that mana to perform the exact same magic we did with blastia in a safer way. I attended Rita Mordio’s classes in Zaphias, she’s number one when it comes to spirits and the new concept of aer conversion.”

“Mordio is also a teenager. Sixteen years old.” Erika continues to smile despite Yuri’s tone. “A well known skeptic and hermit, and paid by the Empire’s dollar. Unfortunately, she will say whatever she’s told to say. We cannot trust a child to tell us about these new spirits, nor where they came from. I know the truth because I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”

Flynn’s posture shifts as he braces himself against Yuri’s furious grasp.

“She wrote the book on spirits. Even children have important things to say,” he says, his feminine voice wavering. “She’s dedicated her whole life to the study of aer and mana. She’s the smartest person I know and she wouldn’t lie just for money.”

“And so she gave you the ability to use magic? Taught you how to summon the power of spirits?”

“She taught me the theory on how to utilize mana,” Yuri says carefully. “I can only execute so much on my own but there’s pages of research on it already, I watched experiments--”

“But she didn’t teach you artes? How easy they are to utilize? It sounds like she’s keeping the bulk of her knowledge to herself.”

“There’s no shortcut to using artes, what are you talking about?”

The murmuring grows to a dull roar; those agreeing with Yuri, those from the empire insulted by being recruited into a guild, those most vulnerable asking ‘how’ and ‘why’, still others moved to tears by Erika’s apparent sincerity. Yuri is about to speak up again.

And then the ground lights up around Erika’s feet. A formula-like pattern forms in real time, a scrawled line sewn into the atmosphere surrounding her. The emerald symbol is organic, hand-drawn, missing the precise protracted circles that ordinary blastia formulae used to possess. Erika extends her hands again and completes the formula. Her cropped hair flows in a wind that encircles her and gently lifts her from the ground. The fine hairs on Flynn’s body prickle and sting his nerves.

“This is Mana,” Erika says, her voice loud and clear in the stark silence that follows. It takes seconds for the uproar to begin again with a fervor.

“Without a blastia core?!”  
“Isn’t that dangerous?”  
“How do you have control?”  
“It’s so beautiful!”

“She uses my innate spirit to bring out my power.” Erika lets her feet touch ground, and she breathes in deeply. “She spoke to my soul, and she found the element of wind inside. Now, I know skills I never knew before Mana came into me, and I can use them at will. Not even bohdi blastia could have assisted me in this.”

Joa jumps in, his face bright. He draws his own formula, a bright yellow oval with messy runes drawn inside of it, although it fizzles out before he can properly cast a spell.

“There’s no way,” Flynn murmurs, his scrap of cloth weighing down his pocket. “Not even the mages in the capital have presented findings like these.”

The only person he’d ever met who’d been able to do magic like this was Lady Estellise. The Child of the Full Moon.

Erika continues, and even through the shouted din her voice is loud and clear. “I am one of the representatives of New Realm. Led by our gracious master Higen, we’re a guild dedicated to Mana, to life, and to learning how to maneuver these unfair new rules of Terca Lumireis. We help each other, learn from each other. We offer security and understanding in these tumultuous times. If you join us, we can lead you through the fear. You could be part of a family, of something so much more than just yourself. You could have a cause again.”

“Could Mana restore the barriers?! Could Mana light my home again?!” A desperate woman asks, throwing herself closer to Erika. The crowd follows her, closing in on Erika as she stands tranquil between them all. They fling questions at her, a crazed mob devoid of the decorum present during their socialite walk. 

“My beloved patrons! If you wish to know more, you can follow me to Caer Bocram!” Erika raises her hands above them all. “Join me and learn all there is to know about the love that Mana gives us!”

Yuri tugs Flynn out of the throng. They back into the bushes and trees of the garden, away from the chaos.

“This isn’t a guild,” Yuri growls.

“It’s a cult.” Flynn curtly nods. Yuri clamps down onto his hand, hot and clammy and trembling. “Breathe, Yuri.”

“That was faked, right? I’m not the only one thinking that?” Yuri keeps his voice just below a growl. “That’s some Child of the Full Moon shit, and I don’t think she’s part of the royal family.” Even in the dim shade of the trees, Flynn feels the intensity of his glare, and it fires him up even more.

“I cannot imagine another method for what she just did. The idea of pacts with spirits is still very new, and that circle she drew was no true formula. Unless New Realm has been conducting experiments outside the jurisdiction of both the Empire and the Union.” Flynn rubs his chin, his brow furrowed. “She speaks like that to a boozed up crowd, all with a bodyguard standing by. With members like Manfred, who spoke about helping people and then groped a woman in plain view not even a breath after.”

“She was fear-mongering, manipulating them. Manny said shit just like that to all the people who he talked to, but he targeted out of work guildsmen. This-- this is disgusting.” Glaring into the crowd, Flynn hears him trying to steady his breath, even as he balls his hands into fists. "And they just believe her!"

“I could arrest her now,” Flynn says quietly.

“No. No, we need Higen. I don’t think we could squeeze any answers out of that woman.” Yuri drops his chin to his chest. “Goddamn it. That ogre lied to me, or else he warned Higen about me. Why did there have to be so many people here?”

“We’ll keep them safe. Yuri, we’re getting close.” The uneasy feeling in Flynn’s gut sits like a swallowed stone. “You heard what she said. I could mobilize a force from Heliord to Caer Bocram and raid the buildings. If they’re keeping even part of their organization there, it could be a total bust for them.”

“And then they don’t find anything, or worse, they do. You know that the Union is talking shit about the Empire again. New Realm still looks like a guild to everyone else, and you send a whole brigade after them? Also, Higen could not even be there, and then we lose him permanently.”

“That city is still crawling with monsters, Yuri, it hasn’t even been touched by reconstruction efforts. I can handle a single monster on my own, a handful with you by my side, but like this?” Flynn holds up their cuffs, and Yuri jerks his hand back.

“Will you stop trying to take control of this?!”

“I’m not trying to control anything, I’m trying to discuss a plan with you!”

“This is my mission, so we listen to my plan!”

“You’re too focused on getting justice on one man, why can’t we cast a wider net, Yuri? Are you fantasizing about personally striking him down? Haven’t you learned anything?!”

“Let me do this without you!” Yuri shoves Flynn against a tree, fists warping the leather jacket. A desperate hurt strains his expression, clenches his jaw, waters his eyes. He could rip out Flynn’s throat with his teeth.

Flynn struggles, but Yuri claps a hand over his mouth and they both freeze in place. Bushes rustle from where they came from, lantern light lengthening the shadows of the grove.

“Is someone there?” Joa’s voice comes in a bright and worried tone. “I heard shouting? Are you okay?”

Yuri’s eyes dart to the sides, searching for exits. Together, they’re too slow to be pursued on foot by a single person through this veritable obstacle course of bushes and trees. Yuri could climb a tree himself, but Flynn would hold him back. There’s no way for them to get out without being caught. Flynn takes a breath as Yuri’s hand drops to his waist to hike up his dress, reaching for the hidden knife.

Flynn snags his wrist, flips their positions, and pins Yuri against the tree with his hips. He jams their lips together in a bruising kiss that has Yuri clawing at his arms. It only takes half a second for Yuri to get the picture, and he yields his mouth to him with a grunt.

The lantern light illuminates them and Joa yelps in surprise. Flynn doesn’t pull away from Yuri’s hips, leering at Joa while Yuri runs his tongue over his ear.

“Do you mind, good sir?” Without waiting for a response, Flynn catches Yuri’s lips again. Yuri juts his thigh between his legs and slips his tongue into his mouth, and he can’t help but groan.

“Y-yes, so sorry! Ah, I’ll leave you to it! U-um, we’re meeting in the plaza the morning after tomorrow, please-- please be there, Goldwells!” Joa makes a hasty retreat, branches snapping in his wake.

Yuri is searing hot. More teeth than tongue, he bites at Flynn’s lips, soothing them with licks and kisses. He rolls his hips against Flynn’s, a hand held to the small of his back to keep him as close as possible. Responding, Flynn grinds against him and revels in Yuri’s gasp. If Flynn could get closer, he would. If Flynn hadn’t the last shreds of his self control, he’d find ways to make Yuri scream right here in this park, make him sob gratitude with every lunge of his hips. 

SMACK! Flynn snaps out of his primal state, his left cheek stinging with the swift handprint of justice. Reality floods in and he stumbles away from Yuri.

“Way to improvise,” Yuri pants. He wipes away smeared gloss from around his lips with his fingers. “Thought that guy was gonna burst into flame.”

“I-- I’m sorry,” Flynn babbles, now placated, shame overriding his other swirling emotions.

“About what? The shit you said, or the shit you did?”

“Kissing you like that, out of the blue. That was inappropriate.”

“... It’s fine. It helped, didn’t it?” Yuri pushes off the tree and brushes his dress out. “We need to be in the plaza that morning. We’re going to Caer Bocram with Erika and we’re going to see about this Mana business. That’s the plan. If you don’t like it, cut off your hand.”

Flynn frowns. His lips are sore and swollen. Yuri stares off into middle distance, looking at something far more interesting than Flynn’s face.

“You…” Flynn grunts. “Will you at least let me send a message? I can inform Miss Rita about what’s happening and give her a time frame. If she doesn’t hear from us, should things go south, then she could help us. She can also put in research about what’s happening, and we can trust her to be discreet.”

With a short sigh, Yuri tries to fold his arms. Flynn’s hand goes with him. He huffs again and drops his arms to his sides. “Fine. That’s actually a good idea. Because we’re going to find Higen before then, and she won’t need to help.”

“How are you so sure?”

“I’m not, okay? I’m not sure.”

“I know you don’t want to put your friends in harm’s way, Yuri. But they’ll want to help you with this. You know they can handle it, right? Sir Raven could do his own intel for us on the guild side, and Lady Estellise and Karol could run counter-information and prevent this guild from reaching more vulnerable citizens. Hell, Judith alone could take down the half monsters in Caer Bocram with a flourish.” Flynn stares at Yuri, who refuses to look at him. “Why is it so important that you do this alone?”

“Always asking the tough questions, huh?” Yuri’s voice is hoarse. “Not fair that I can’t storm off dramatically.”

“You know I’d chase you down wherever you went.”

“Funny, here I thought I was the one chasing after you.”

“Your sarcasm is not appreciated.”

“It’s not sarcasm.” Yuri lifts his head to stare at the leaves above them. “Is there any way I can get out of this? I could suck your dick. You seemed pretty raring to go a second ago.”

Flynn flashes hot, his jaw dropping. “I-- Yuri--”

“Is that a yes I hear? I’m hearing a yes.”

“No!” Flynn scrubs at his face. “No, no fellatio! That’s not happening!”

“Fine, yeah, I know, I’m kidding. Look. Don’t make me cut open my chest and lay it all out, okay? Not now.” Yuri finally looks at him, and Flynn sees the glisten in the corners of his eyes despite his tight smirk. “Let’s just focus on not dying, and when we get out of this, then you can interrogate me about my motivations all you want.”

Flynn swallows. Yuri holds his gaze until he finally nods, and his shoulders relax ever so slightly. They start to edge out of the bushes, into the empty park. The streetlamps are beginning to gutter, flickering their shadows against the stone walls of Heliord’s houses.

After a while of walking, Yuri slips his hand back into Flynn’s. “Thanks.”

Flynn tucks his lips into his mouth. “I’m sorry. About what I said. You have learned a lot. I just need to put my faith in you.”

“Are we growing up or something? This is the most we’ve ever apologized to each other in twenty four hours.” Yuri flashes him a smile.

“Heh. Soon the day will come when we finally reach maturity.” Flynn smiles back at him. “Do you forgive me?”

“Jury’s still out, but prospect’s good.” Yuri waves his hand. “The accused should receive a partial pardon.”

“Yuri.”

“Fine, a full pardon, sheesh.”


End file.
